The Student
by fringeperson
Summary: What if Harry had a couple of ... slightly different teachers when he was still small? A little outside influence isn't going to hurt anyone. Also includes members of the Addams Family, but X-over only allows for two options. DO NOT OWN.
1. Chapter 1

When Fester had, for reasons unknown, unclear or simply unkind, ejected the rest of the Addams family from the family home, Morticia had taken a job as a primary school teacher. She and the five-year-olds had their first day together, and Moricia was surprised that one of the children on her roster was absent. But perhaps they had just not heard her?

"Is there anybody I've missed?" she called over the class.

A small hand went up.

"And what's your name?" she asked kindly, fixing on the small, indeed tiny boy with messy black hair, glasses, and a scar on his forehead, expecting him to say the name that she had not yet marked as present on her list.

"Freak," the little boy answered.

Morticia blinked. Even an Addams, proud as they were of their differences to general society, would never call a child Freak. There was Cousin It, but there would never be a child of the Addams family called Freak.

"Well, I'm sorry little one, but your name isn't on my list," Morticia told the child. "We'll get it cleared up soon enough though, alright?" she added when she saw how very distressed this made him.

The child nodded and Morticia went on to read them a story and get them to do some colouring in before recess came and she could let the children out to play. At this time, she took the little boy who called himself 'Freak' to the office, where they would hopefully get this confusion corrected.

It didn't take long before it was confirmed that, yes, the child was Harry James Potter, and not 'Freak'.

Of all the children in that class, Morticia only missed little Harry when the family was once again in the Addams family home, no longer destitute. There was just something tortured and melancholy about the boy, something Addams-ish about him, a single depth among all the shallow little children.

~oOo~

The former Duchess, Susan Sto Helit looked around her class of seven-year-old children on the first day of class and decided that she would have a _lot_ of work to do. Especially with that fat boy. Parent nights this year would most likely be a trial, but then, they were every other year. Why should this one be any different?

Having accounted for every child, she then proceeded to review their lessons so far, and explain to them the reward system that she had set up. One girl's eyes lit up, and she sat straighter in her chair, her blonde braids hanging down by her ears, when Susan mentioned the star system. One boy though, a boy with messy black hair, glasses, and a scar on his head cut a glance at the fat boy and seemed to groan before burying his face in his arms on the desk.

That night, Susan reviewed the files on the children that she had spent the day educating – whether they wanted to be educated or not, most of them not – and found the files on Harry Potter and Dudley Dursley.

She frowned. There was a note from the first year by a teacher who was no longer with them, noting that the boy Harry Potter had not answered to his name, believing his moniker to be 'Freak', until a trip to the office had proven otherwise.

Susan stood from her chair, grabbed a sensible charcoal-grey coat, hailed a cab, and went to see the living conditions of this family. She was, upon reaching the place, _not impressed_, though she could see how the boy had come to the belief that his name was something other than it was. Now, however, was not the time to just go barging in.

Oh yes, she had a _lot_ of work to do this year.

~oOo~

The lesson with the bogey man had gone, as it usually did, quite well. The children were all, initially, very frightened. Some even more than others, but that was also to be expected. Having an adult confirm that a creature that scares them, that parents have previously said doesn't exist and is nothing to be afraid of, is actually _real_ is never going to be an enjoyable experience. Once she also taught them how to fight back against the bogey man, they were a great deal happier about meeting the creature.

The day her grandfather brought Binky was much more eventful. Normally, having a horse in a classroom was exciting enough, but he did something that he usually didn't when he made his visits to the classroom – he took a particular interest in one of the children. Thankfully, he waited until the rest of the children had gone out to play.

"Harry Potter," the skeleton said, laying a gentle, bony hand on the boy's head. "You and I have met before," he told the child. "When you were very small. I think I must take you away for a little while."

"Grandfather," Susan cautioned.

"I will bring him back in time for class after recess," the figure promised.

Susan frowned. "How long will he think he's gone, and why are you taking him?"

The Reaper's bone fingers slid down to the scar on the boy's forehead, which they seemed to _peel off_ like it were just a sticker.

Harry blinked in surprise. "If I'd know you could do that, I'd have done that _ages_ ago," the boy said, staring in surprise while a hand felt where the scar had been. Perfectly smooth, like it had never been for as long as he could remember.

Death draped the peeled off scar tissue over the blade of his scythe. A tiny, ferocious scream erupted from it before it disappeared completely.

"The boy has need of a few lessons that only I can give him," Death stated calmly, his glowing blue eyes on Susan.

Who sighed, rubbed at her eyes, and then nodded.

"Just have him back here before recess is over _today_," she insisted.

Death nodded and lifted Harry onto Binky's back.

Five minutes later, Binky returned, only Harry on his back, but the child – and he still was, Susan was pleased to note – looked a little more wizened. It was in his eyes.

"How long were you gone?" Susan asked politely.

"A... long time?" Harry asked, unsure. "Time didn't mean much there," he added. "I taught Albert how to cook a few other things though, so not everything is fried food now."

Susan nodded. "I'm terribly glad to hear that," she said, smiling at the boy. "He gave me a dirty look when I asked for muesli that one time. You've been gone for five minutes here, by the way."

Harry nodded, a little awed.

"I warn you to be careful," Susan said straight up, going to sit behind her desk. "If you start remembering the future because of your time there, do _not_ tell people, and do _not_ jump to conclusions. Try and remember that walking through walls is something normally accomplished through the use of opening a door in front of you and closing it behind you, and if you can to the Voice, don't unless it's an emergency."

Harry nodded. "Albert told me some of that before I left, and the raven, and the rat. I didn't know that ravens could talk."

Susan snorted indelicately. "Normal ones can't," she answered. "Quoth, however, comes from before the Discworld was disrupted and destroyed, and has high levels of magical saturation. Magic does odd things to animals," she added by way of explanation.

"Aunt and Uncle say that magic doesn't exists," Harry said. "That it isn't real, and telling lies is bad, so magic's a bad word."

Susan raised an eyebrow at this information. "Well, telling lies is bad," she confirmed. "Unfortunately, they're the ones telling the lies. Grown ups tend to do that a lot, when they don't like the way that the truth looks. I don't recommend telling them I said so of course."

Harry shook his head firmly. "I won't," he promised.

"If you ever need help with something, you can ask me, alright?" Susan suggested.

Harry beamed. "Thank you Miss!"

~oOo~

Harry, led by memories of the future – as he had promised Miss Sto Helit, he didn't _tell_ anybody about these, and he didn't jump to any conclusions, but that didn't mean he couldn't _act_ on them – took some money from his uncle's wallet and then a cab into London. He made his way to the Leaky Cauldron, asked Tom to let him into Diagon Alley, and headed straight for the goblin bank.

Quite the adventure for the seven-year-old really.

The goblins looked at him as strangely as he supposed he looked at them. He was trying to figure our what they were, despite already knowing, and they were trying to figure out what a child was doing there without an appropriate guardian.

"My name's Harry Potter," he said at last, holding out a hand to the goblin who was watching him, to shake. "Pleased to meet you."

The goblin blinked, surprised at any kind of courtesy from a human, but reached forward his clawed hand to shake with the boy all the same.

"I am Grasp," the goblin answered, shaking the boy's hand once, firmly, and then releasing it to sit back in his chair and survey the boy. "What can we at Gringotts do for you Mister Potter?"

Harry rocked on his heels a little. "Do I have any money?" he asked.

Grasp was shocked to hear the question. The boy should have known something as basic as _that_ surely? "Yes, Mister Potter. You have a large vault of money. We have been taking good care of it for you."

"Thank you very much Mister Grasp," Harry said brightly, smiling. "Might I meet it?"

Grasp blinked. "Meet it?"

"Well, I don't know much about spending money yet, or saving or investing or anything really, so I thought I'd just go, say hello to all of it, and get to know more about what I've got," Harry explained. "I read in a book once about a man who spent so much time talking to his gold, that if it got stolen and he called for it, it would answer him," Harry added, wide-eyed and completely serious.

Grasp blinked again. "Mister Potter, you have rather more to the possessions left to you by your parents that just the money in your vault, if you would like to, as you say, 'meet' that as well?" Grasp suggested.

Harry beamed. "Thank you Mister Grasp! I'd like that a lot!"

~oOo~

Harry was given a keyring before he left the bank. On the keyring were several keys. One was to his vault, one was to the house that his parents had left to him that was in the middle of London, one was to his godfather's house – since the man was in Azkaban, Harry had access to but not use of his vaults, and access to his property, if he wanted to keep it clean or something – one key was to the house that his grandparents had left to his mother, but which had now fallen to him, and the last key was to the country house that his parents had left him, located in the lake district.

Harry was also given a purse full of money. His own of course. Wizarding coin, some of which had been exchanged for British Pounds that he could use out in the rest of the real world. Harry's first major decision was that, since he had houses of his own to go 'home' to, then he would go live in one of them rather than going back to live with his aunt, uncle and cousin. His second major decision was that he was going to get a dog.

The house that had been handed down from his grandparents wasn't too far from the school that he went to with Dudley, and while he didn't want to have anything to do with Dudley if he could help it, he really did like the classes, and going to school would be better than not. Besides, his school fees had already been paid for the year.

He found a newspaper and searched through the pet section for adds that a breeder had a litter of puppies for sale, as well as any adds for a pet-supplies shop and a nearby vet – one that was near by where he would be living, that is. Before long, a grin was spread right across his face as he left the very reputable breeder's house with his own perfectly black Irish Wolfhound puppy.

~oOo~

His grandparents' house, quite simply, needed _a lot_ of work. Thankfully, it was still early on Saturday afternoon, so he had plenty of weekend to make the place properly habitable, and then there was the whole 'time doesn't really matter' trick he'd learned from Death.

There were also rats running about. Harry convinced his new and wonderful puppy to catch these rats for him. Okay, rodent may not have been his first choice of meal, but he'd made rabbit for the Dursleys a couple of times. Rat couldn't be all that different. The puppy seemed to like eating them as well, particularly after Harry had taken off the annoying fur. Besides, the Death of Rats was really quite a nice chap, and Harry didn't think he'd mind getting a bit more work.

"I'm going to have to think of a _really_ good name for you," Harry told the puppy as they sat down to eat their rats at dinner time – Harry's had been cooked of course. "I can't call you puppy forever."

The animal barked in what Harry decided was probably agreement.

"Well, you're a boy puppy, so girl names are out," Harry reasoned. "I'm not going to name you after any of my relatives, and you're really not an 'Albert'. Death said that his apprentice before me was called Mort, but I don't think that really suits you either. It's a sort of wet name," Harry hummed to himself. "And Lobsang's a name for people who wear robes like Time's old teacher did, and Time himself as well I guess. I think you should have a really cool name, but most of the really cool names are also stupidly long, like Mephistopheles. Besides, that's a kind of name that won't really suit you until you get bigger. Uh... I know! Mrs Addams read to us from Alice in Wonderland a couple of years ago. I'll name you Bandersnatch! Or maybe just Banders for short," Harry decided, nodding his head firmly.

The newly-dubbed Bandersnatch barked a happy sound, and wagged his tail.

~oOo~

Bandersnatch stayed home when Harry went to school, but that was alright because there was a big backyard for him to run around in, and lots of rats for him to play with. Harry had left a few other toys as well, since he didn't want the puppy to get bored while he was gone.

The house didn't take that long to clean up, thankfully, and since Harry had been cleaning the house, cooking meals, and weeding the garden since he was four, taking care of himself wasn't that difficult. Thanks to the goblins in Gringotts, he even had money to pay for food, as well as the electrical bill and the gas bill that would eventually come.

At this moment, Harry was sitting in class, working on advanced algebra, and Dudley was getting a Talking To from Miss Sto Helit.

"You will do your _own_ school work Dudley," Miss Sto Helit said. "You will not cheat off of somebody else's. You will not steal somebody else's work and pretend that it is your own. You will stop picking on the other children in the school yard at recess and lunch. You will be failed and expelled if this behaviour continues. Am I clear?"

Dudley swallowed visibly. The Voice tended to have that effect, even on grown ups. Then he nodded.

"Good," Miss Sto Helit said with a slight smile.

~oOo~

It was parent-teacher night, and Harry had come back for his own catch-up with Miss Sto Helit – as he didn't have parents and was no longer living with his aunt and uncle. He'd brought Bandersnatch with him this time though.

"Good evening Harry."

Harry turned. There was only one person who that could be – even he and Miss Sto Helit, for all that they could _do_ the voice, they didn't give pleasantries in it. He smiled.

"Hell Sir," he answered, looking up at the black-robed skeleton.

Bandersnatch cocked his head curiously when the Death of Rats appeared, as if he wasn't sure what to do about a it.

"You leave that one alone," Harry said quietly to the puppy, stroking his head, then looked up at Death again. "What brings you here tonight Sir? I wouldn't have picked parent-teacher night as a time for you to be busy."

Death chuckled a little. "No," he agreed. "I came to speak with Susan about the progress of your education. I may not be your parent, but I can still be curious."

Harry smiled. "Thank you Sir."

Before them, the Dursleys were having their interview with Miss Sto Helit. Harry grinned at the thought of all the things she might be saying to them, and that she might even be using the Voice – simply because they were both too stupid to listen to anything that they didn't want to hear otherwise.

It was a week later that Dudley started to visibly lose weight. Maybe not much at first, but his girth was shrinking and he began to look less like a beach ball.

~oOo~


	2. Chapter 2

A couple of years later, a letter came to Harry's house, addressed with green ink of all things, and Harry remembered – very carefully – a few of the things that he had learned from Death, Albert and Lobsang while he had been 'away'. So, this was his Hogwarts letter.

"The time has come, the Walrus said, to talk of many things," Harry said absently as he went into the kitchen.

Bandersnatch barked.

Harry smiled. "Breakfast time?" he suggested happily. "Alright Banders, what would you like? Dried mix? Tinned meat? Sausage? Or have you caught a rat you want me to skin for you?"

Bandersnatch barked again, quite happily, and picked up his already full bowl for Harry to examine.

"Rats it is then," he said with a smile, taking the small creatures to the kitchen bench and getting out a knife.

Another two letters came while Harry was eating his muesli. One was addressed with silver ink, and the other with an almost worrying rusty-bloody-brown-red.

"Beauxbaton and Durmstrang," Harry commented to himself, glad that he had options at least, even if they were out-of-the-country options where he probably wouldn't understand a word.

Another three letters showed up while Harry washed up. Unlike the others, these letters appeared to have had his address printed on them by a computer. Points in their favour to Harry's mind.

Harry had long been using the internet in his own home to multiply his fortune in the stock market, putting his unique memory to good, if perhaps slightly unethical, use. Supporting himself was something that the ten-almost-eleven-year-old boy took some pride in. Besides, it was fun. He'd miss playing the game in his down-time if there weren't any computers for him to buy and sell through.

When breakfast had been cleaned up, Harry played with Bandersnatch for a while, then sat down in his chair in the lounge room to read through – and compare – the letters while his dog drank some water and had a lie-down on _his_ sofa.

He had been invited to Hogwarts, as expected, as well as the other two major European schools for magic, but he had also been invited to attend the Japanese magic school, as well as the one in America and a school that apparently floated between Australia and New Zealand.

"Pox on being famous among a global ghetto society," Harry grumbled to himself, "but if it means I can see a bit more of the world, then maybe it's not so bad. Then again, there isn't really anything to stop me from just going wherever I want anyway, just to holiday and have fun."

Still... Harry reached for three envelopes and sheets of paper to write replies to three of the schools at once. To Durmstrang, Beauxbaton, and the Kyoto Wizarding University – the last of which seemed to be more of a courtesy letter to let him know they existed, since they didn't accept anybody until they were at least sixteen.

He thanked the first two schools for their invitations to their fine establishments, and lamented that his language skills were not such that he felt comfortable going to a school where another language was spoken. He also particularly thanked KWU for letting him know about their existence with so much time for him to study their language if he decided at the more appropriate time that he wanted to go.

This left him with Salem, Hogwarts, and the floating school, Endeavour.

Salem's letter was put aside after a bit of reading. They seemed to be a good school, a very good school in fact, but he wasn't so sure about being surrounded by American accents.

The Hogwarts letter was likewise put aside after he'd read through it. The education was supposed to be good, but didn't seem to cover any of the regular subjects that a normal school would offer. Just magical courses.

Endeavour seemed the best one, but it cautioned about bringing in any pets or plants, due to quarantine – a practice that was designed to keep pests out of the two countries that it travelled between. If he wanted to go to this school, then he'd have to put Bandersnatch into the quarantine process very soon so that he'd be out of it in time – and the sooner, the better.

Harry sighed.

Lobsang appeared.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Urgent?" he asked, curious about why Time, who was normally very good about remembering human things, had just appeared rather than knocked at his front door.

Lobsang coloured a little. "Not really," he admitted. "But I thought you might like someone to bounce ideas off, since you have to pick schools now."

Harry nodded. "I appreciate that," he said, genuinely grateful. "Bit of a quantum-trouser this one," he added.

Lobsang nodded his understanding. "It's the uncertainty principle," he said.

Harry chuckled. "Albert said once that there was a time when if a wizard was uncertain, then he was dead. I'd say being dead is a much more certain thing."

Lobsang joined in the chuckles. "Yes, I suppose so."

"Endeavour Floating School for Those of Magical Talent really does look like the best one," Harry said. "It's not that old, but it's got a really high teaching-standard. The only thing I'm worried about is taking Banders there, because of all the red-tape involved in bringing an animal into the country where they'd collect me from for the school year."

"And you can't fiddle the time on quarantine because they actually have a reason for it taking so long," Lobsang said with a crooked smile.

Harry nodded. "There'd be some kind of quarantine in America too probably, but it could be sorted out by magic. This school wouldn't do that. I'm also not sure about how much space they'd have for Bandersnatch to run around in, if they're a floating establishment."

"So, for the sake of your dog, don't go to the school, and for the sake of your education, buy the books that they say are the required texts and go to Hogwarts. Write to all of these places as well. Hogwarts doesn't say anything about having pet dogs on campus," Lobsang added, picking up the letter.

Harry smiled and nodded. "Thank you Sir."

Lobsang smiled and patted the boy on the head, gave Bandersnatch a scratch under his chin, and then disappeared.

~oOo~

"Dear Mr Potter," Harry read aloud, having received another letter from Endeavour. "While we are disappointed to not be receiving you personally for the school year, we understand your concerns for your pet. Regrettably, we do not have the large campus offered to you by your local school. We will be glad to send you the book list every year as you requested, and would be delighted to continue a correspondence between yourself and our teachers. Regarding the concern you mentioned about the ineffectiveness of technology on Hogwarts grounds, we have found that by substituting electricity for a magical current, and casting a protection charm on the technology in question, allows our systems to work without much difficulty – though we have several staff members dedicated exclusively to maintaining these magical currents and protections at all times. Perhaps summer courses would give you the experience with technology that you will be missing out on at Hogwarts. Sincerely, Joseph Banks, Plant Studies and Vice-Principle."

Harry smiled, folded the letter, and then turned to the return letter he had gotten from Hogwarts. He had needed to ask them about taking Bandersnatch with him after all, since dogs weren't a listed pet.

"Dear Mr Potter. Your query was most unexpected, but after deliberation we can inform you that, due to there being a precedent, your dog may be brought to the school. Sincerely, Minerva MacGonagall, Deputy Headmaster and Transfiguration Professor," Harry read, then cheered, dropping the letter to give Bandersnatch a hug.

~oOo~

Harry's first stop – after Gringotts for more money that is – was to the wizard's luggage shop, wondering if he might be lucky enough to find the famous Luggage that had belonged to a man called TwoFlower, before he gave it to a wizard called Rincewind – who was one of the many who had not escaped the End of the Discworld, according to Death. He looked all around the shop twice, searching hopefully. No luck.

The boy decided that it was probably just as well, and picked a trunk that was small enough for him to not look out of place carrying, but was not only much bigger on the inside, but had a few compartments as well.

Then he made a quick stop at a shop that sold robes. Why the uniform couldn't look like a regular uniform, Harry didn't know, but he _did_ know that he'd be growing this year, just as he had the year before, so he made sure that there was enough fabric in the hem for him to let down when he needed to. He also intended to stop by a few regular clothes shops in London before he headed home. All of his normal clothes were at the end of their hem-life, and he needed new things.

After getting his 'uniform', Harry took his lists to a few more shops, getting the things he would need for brewing potions – according to both letters he had – as well as a few pre-brewed potions he thought would be useful to have on-hand. He also had to get a telescope, but there were better ones that could be bought from the National Geographic, so Harry didn't bother buying one in Diagon Alley. The book shop drained his wallet a fair bit. The texts of the two schools only crossed over for a couple of subjects, and even then, Endeavour had more than one text for each subject.

Harry decided to leave Diagon Alley for his wand though. He didn't trust a sign that said "Fine wands since 382 B.C." and decided to check out the shadier part of the magical community at last. There should probably be another wand maker down there, and he'd been curious about the place for some time. It was only now that he felt he was old enough to handle leaving the well-lit spaces of Diagon for Knockturn's shadows.

"Hatty's Custom Wands," Harry read, looking up at the sign with a smile. He found the door, and headed straight in.

He left with a willow wand, a full two feet long – unprecedented, according to Mistress Hatty – and the core was a whisker from an Asian dragon dipped in mercury and griffin blood.

"You mind though," Hatty said as she accepted the pay from Harry for his wand. "The Ministry _expects_ young witches and wizards to get their first wand from Ollivander's. The wands are all registered and have tracking spells on them. You'd best get one from him too, or there could be trouble. I don't want trouble," Hatty warned Harry.

The boy nodded and went to the shop he had previously decided he didn't much fancy.

~oOo~

Miss Sto Helit was waiting for him outside of Ollivander's shop when he got there. When she spotted him, she withdrew a make-up pencil, held his chin still, and drew onto his face the lightening bolt scar that her grandfather had removed years ago.

"What's that for?" Harry asked, not reaching up to wipe it off as he wanted to.

Miss Sto Helit slipped the pencil into her pocket. "Because you can't hide in the crowd in this shop," she answered simply. "He'll notice if it's not there."  
Harry went "Ah," in understanding. In every shop so far, he'd just been a young boy getting his school things, like all the others. Hatty's shop had been empty except for the two of them, but that was Knockturn Alley, and it was different.

"Now, give me your wand and we'll go in. It can't look like you've already got one after all," Susan pointed out, holding out her hand.

Harry nodded and gave her the long willow wand, which Susan examined critically before nodding and opened the door for the boy.

~oOo~

"Excuse me Sir," Harry said in his most patient and polite way, "but, what's curious?"

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter, and it is curious that _you_ should be destined for _this_ wand, when it's brother gave you that scar," the old man said dramatically, pointing to the mark that Miss Sto Helit had drawn back on his forehead just before they entered the shop. "The wand chooses the wizard, Mr Potter."

"And yet many wands are handed down within the family regardless of if they work for the next generation or not," Susan said simply, standing from the small chair where she had been watching the old man have Harry try wand after wand after wand until they had reached this one, which worked.

Ollivander shook his head sadly. "Yes, most unfortunate," he said.

"Might happen less often if wands weren't so expensive," Susan suggested as they paid for the wand and left the shop.

~oOo~

Susan made Harry stop at one other shop in Diagon Alley – to buy Floo powder – before going with him into London. They still had a few things left to get for the school year after all.

Pens, exercise books, a basic geometry kit, a telescope, and a collection of different measuring tools from a cooking shop all got piled into the shrunken bigger-on-the-inside-than-outside trunk, and then Susan smiled at Harry once more before tugging him into a shop where the London Goths shopped for their house decorations.

"Why are we here Miss Sto Helit?" Harry asked quietly.

"Standard kit for any wizard," she answered, just as softly, "is a forge, a bench with bottles and bundles strewn all over, a bookcase with more books than space to keep them in, a stuffed alligator to hang from the ceiling, some very large candles that are just lava streams of dribbled wax, and a skull with a raven sitting on it."

Harry looked up at his old teacher, a little disbelieving.

"Well, it was when I was young anyway," she amended, "but you getting most of that is a while off yet, and I think that stuffed alligators have gone out of fashion due to being possibly illegal, so you're lucky there. Still, a skull and some drippy candles at least you can't go wrong with."

"Why do I need those?" Harry asked. "And I've already got special permission to take my dog with me. I don't think they'd be too happy if I asked to bring a raven as well, since it's not on the list of pets either."

"Atmosphere," Susan answered. "Magic works better where there's a mysterious atmosphere. I don't know why. Maybe it just likes it."

"What about the raven though?" Harry pressed.

"I'll see about getting you one when you're graduated and they can't complain any more. In the mean time, see if you can teach your dog to walk on its hind legs, wear a suit and talk," Susan suggested. "It will be smarter than most politicians, I assure you."

Harry laughed and smiled. "Thank you Miss Sto Helit."

Then they went to buy him some new clothes and a backpack that wasn't falling apart at the seams like his old one was.

Harry stopped them again so that they could also get him contact lenses – several pairs, some in different colours – and a few packets of bleach and hair-dye.

"Dare I ask what it's all for?" Susan asked.

"It's so that I don't look like my dad," Harry answered. "The things I found out about my parents when I was away, well, I don't mind being a Potter, but I don't want anybody to think that I'm just like him."

Susan nodded her understanding.

~oOo~


	3. Chapter 3

Harry called for a cab service to come and collect him on the morning of September the first to take him – and Bandersnatch – to Kings Cross station. The cabbie who came wasn't too keen on having a dog in his car, but Harry said that he'd give him an extra ten pounds, and promised to make sure that Banders didn't do _anything_ on the seat.

Then it was just a matter of getting through the crowds to the barrier he Remembered using to get onto the platform that the train would be leaving from. Thankfully, he was soon aboard with his trunk stowed in the overhead rack and Banders lying along the wall under the bench – near Harry's feet – while Harry himself settled down to read some of his text books.

He was almost ludicrously early though, so he'd gotten completely through the first book by the time the first family showed up for boarding, and then they just kept coming. He managed to get through another book while other kids stopped briefly by his compartment before moving on to find an empty one, or one with their friends in. Harry was just reaching for a third when a boy actually knocked on the open door of his chosen spot.

"Do you mind if I join you?" the red-headed boy asked. "Everywhere else is full-up."

Harry looked around the compartment, secretly peeking out the window – and it did indeed look as though it was only parents there now, with some younger and older siblings, waving goodbye to their children.

"There's space enough," Harry said absently, nodding. Of course, if Banders weren't mostly under the seat, then there wouldn't be.

"Thanks," the boy said, smiling and moving to sit down. "I'm Ron by the way, Ron Weasley."

"Harry," he answered. "Potter."

"Blimey," Ron said, his eyes bugging out just like Stan's had. "Do you really have the, the scar?"

"I did, but I got rid of it," Harry answered shortly, then pulled his book up closer to his face.

"Blimey, how?" Ron asked, stunned.

"There exists a thing today called 'cosmetic surgery', which people with lots of money can get to change the way that they look," Harry answered.

"Is that why your hair is purple and green too?" Ron asked, curious.

"No. That is thanks to bleach and hair dye," Harry lowered the book and looked at Ron incredulously. "Why don't you know this stuff?"

Ron blushed. "Er, wizarding family. We don't really mix with the muggles much. Dad's fascinated by 'em though."

Bandersnatch chose that moment to shift out of the shadows, following his nose intently to Ron's pocket.

"Ah!" Ron yelped. "The Grim!" he paled and passed out.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Banders, we're going to have some fun this year I think," Harry said, even as his dog sniffed at Ron's pocket.

"Found a rat did you?" Harry asked his dog with a smile, but tugged him back to his place under the couch. "Wait for this rat to come to you," Harry advised. "People don't like it when their pets get eaten by other people's pets."

Harry finished his book, and another, when a girl with bushy brown hair and an ever-so-slight overbite knocked on the door of the compartment.

"You haven't seen a toad have you?" she asked. "A boy called Neville's lost one. Goodness, what happened to him?" the girl blinked at the still comatose Ron Weasley.

"My dog scared him," Harry answered. "No, I haven't seen a toad," he added. "I'm Harry Potter, by the way."

The girl blinked, smiled and stepped into the compartment properly. "Hermione Granger," she answered, then got down to meet the dog.

Harry smiled. "That's Bandersnatch, or just Banders for short."

"Hello Banders," Hermione greeted, scatching the dog's neck and chin. "Apart from 'very big'," Hermione said, looking up from the black dog to Harry, "what is he? I mean, what breed?"

"He's an Irish Wolfhound," Harry answered, closing his book. "Do you have a pet?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. Actually, I thought the Hogwarts letter said only owls, cats, toads or rats. How did you get permission for a dog?"

"I already had him and wrote to Hogwarts asking if I could bring him. Apparently there's a precedent, so it's alright."

Hermione nodded.

Ron woke up then, groggily, and saw the girl patting and scratching what he believed was the Grim as if it were some innocent little pooch. Ron went pale again, but merely gaped rather than passing out again.

"Close your mouth Ronald, we are not a codfish" he said, doing his best impression of Julie Andrews as Mary Poppins. Just as it had in the movie, the boy's mouth snapped shut.

Hermione laughed. Apparently she knew the movie as well.

"This is Bandersnatch, my pet dog," Harry said. "_Not_ the Grim, well, unless you're a rat. Banders likes eating rats."

Ron grabbed at the pocket where Banders had sniffed, confirming that the boy _did_ have a pet rat.

"If Banders brings me your rat to be skinned for him to eat, I'll buy you a new pet that he _won't_ hunt, alright?" Harry said absently. "But I suggest that you be able to prove it was Banders, or make sure I'm familiar with _your_ rat so I'll recognise it, or the offer is void."

Ron nodded.

"Miss Granger, can I count on you to be a witness to my conditions?" Harry asked.

Hermione laughed and nodded. "I hope we're in the same house Harry," she said, "but not because you're famous."

"Because of Banders?" Harry suggested, smiling.

Hermione blushed. "Yeah," she admitted quietly, smiling.

~oOo~

Harry sat with Hermione at the Gryffindor table for breakfast as the mail came in, Bandersnatch lying under the table and being fed sausages by both of them.

Ron eyeballed the dog nervously then sat down as well. "He's really not the Grim?" the nervous boy asked, again.

"I've had him since he was a puppy," Harry answered. "He's big, and he's friendly, and he likes the taste of rats. Banders _isn't_ the Grim."

"You've got a letter Harry," Hermione said, distracting the boys from their conversation to draw their attention to an owl that was sitting in the middle of the table, a parchment envelope tied around his ankle.

"Must be from Gringotts," Harry muttered. He'd received a letter from Death, Lobsang and Miss Sto Helit each in the months that had passed. They had all been delivered by Quoth, who only didn't complain because Harry could ask his plate for sheep eyeballs that the bird could pig out on.

"What's it say? Or is that personal?" Hermione asked.

"We are pleased to inform you that after five years of negotiation with the Ministry on your behalf and at your request, a trial is at last to be held for your godfather Sirius Black, provided you can find a lawyer for him. Should he be found guilty he shall be returned to his cell in Azkaban. If proven innocent, there will be monetary compensation, as well as unlimited access to a crew of medical wizards and witches to help deal with the after-effects of having been surrounded by Dementors for over a decade. Gringotts," Harry read.

Hermione's and Ron's eyes both bugged out.

"The criminal Sirius Black is your godfather Harry?" Hermione asked, shocked.

"Dad's best friend when they were here," Harry answered. "And I believe that he's innocent." It helped that belief that he knew who Scabbers _really_ was, thanks to having studied under Death and Time for... a while.

~oOo~

"Hey Malfoy," Harry called, catching the boy alone for once.

"What do you want, _Potter_," the blonde spat.

Harry smirked. "I need a lawyer, think your dad can recommend someone? Since you're always threatening that he'll sue somebody, I expect he must know a couple of good ones."

Malfoy sneered self-importantly. "What? Got yourself into some trouble have you? Something being famous can't get you out of?"

Harry shook his head. "Nothing like that. I just want to get somebody out of Azkaban."

Malfoy gaped for a moment before regaining his composure. "You'd owe me a pretty big favour if I got one of Father's lawyers to help you with that," Malfoy said at last.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Never mind then," he answered. "I don't fancy owing you anything if I can help it."

Malfoy sneered.

Harry retreated out to the lake with Banders during the lunch break, sometimes throwing a neon-green tennis ball for the dog to fetch, but mostly thinking. Remembering. Sometimes having a memory like Death's was a real headache. In fact, most of the time. Sometimes though, just occasionally, it was damn useful.

"Mrs Addams' husband is a lawyer," Harry remembered, just murmuring the words. He'd never met Mr Addams, had no idea about the family at all really, but thanks to the Memories, he could know now. He just hoped that he could convince them to take the case.

~oOo~

Gomez Addams was surprised when his daughter Wednesday and his son Pugsley brought him an owl, thrashing around in a cage, and with a letter tied to its leg. A letter addressed to him.

"Father, may we play with the owl?" Pugsley asked.

Gomez reached into the cage and took the envelope from the bird. "I think," he said as he scanned over the first lines of the missive, "that you'd better not, unless you wish to give it some mice. Someone used this owl to deliver a message, and I believe that I'll need the bird if I wish to reply."

The children frowned, but nodded their acceptance of this, leaving their father in his study, intent on catching some mice for the bird of prey.

"What is it Gomez?" Morticia asked, peering over his shoulder to read the letter for herself.

"Someone asking me to put my time as one of Harvard's students of the Law to use," Gomez answered. "Though I don't know how they found out about it."

Morticia looked down the page to the name of the sender. "Gomez," she said, a little startled. "It's one of the children I taught all those years ago when Fester had just barely returned to us."

Gomez blinked in surprise. "Morticia?"

She shook her head. No, she hadn't told any of the children. "There was something about him though," she admitted. For him to have remained in her memory for so long, there really did have to be. "What is he asking you to do?"

Gomez re-read the letter. "He says that his godfather has been imprisoned for the past decade without a trial, and would like me to represent him, prove his innocence." Gomez frowned. He was proud of his son for being on probation, but that someone could have been imprisoned without a trial irked him. It made the idea of being a criminal sound too easy. This was just a – very hopeful – courtesy letter, asking if he would consider taking the case.

"A murder case that is over ten years old," Morticia hummed. "Sounds torturous," she observed with quiet pleasure.

Gomez smiled up at his wife. "I suppose I'll take it then," he said.

~oOo~


	4. Chapter 4

When Christmas came, Harry stayed at Hogwarts. Ron was still nervous around Bandersnatch, but Fred and George – who were also staying, had become quite fond of the large dog. Hermione was going home to her parents. She had also left instructions for Harry and Ron to search the library for information about Nicolas Flammel – an instruction to which Harry had rolled his eyes.

He knew better than his friend what was going on, but he couldn't say anything. It was in the Rules. Of course, when he unwrapped a bundle on Christmas day to find an Invisibility Cloak, Harry smiled to himself. He had a turbaned professor to pay a visit to.

Normally, going unnoticed wasn't an issue for Harry, but this was a Magical school, and the people here were more naturally inclined to be able to see ... well, certain things. They'd probably not see him if he just didn't want them to, but he'd rather not take any chances. This cloak afforded him the opportunity to do something he'd been wanting to since his first Defence class.

There was also a letter among his Christmas gifts (a time-turner from Lobsang, Death sent him a dagger, there was a set of books from Miss Sto Helit, and a Weasley jumper from Ron's mum). It was from Mr Gomez Addams. He was willing to accept the case, to help get Sirius out of Azkaban. The letter also had the fee he would be asking, as well as a greeting from Morticia, who apparently remembered teaching him all those years ago.

~oOo~

Hidden beneath his invisibility cloak, Harry slipped through the corridors of the school, well and truly after hours, but he wasn't being Harry Potter, student of Hogwarts, and good little boy right now. Right now, he was being Death's way around the Rules, and an instrument of Prophecy. He was on his way to Quirrel's rooms, with his soul-reaping dagger, sharp enough to cut sentences into pieces, held in his left hand.

Death knows where everyone is. So did his granddaughter, and so did Harry. He didn't have to know _when_ they were just now, there was currently no issue with the time-continuum for him to worry about. As such, Harry had no problems finding the professor. The man was just falling into his bed, unicorn blood smeared on one of the many folds of his purple turban.

Harry tutted at the man.

"Quirrel, you really have been a naughty boy," Harry said solemnly, using the Voice as he had been taught. "But I am not here to punish you," he added, watching his teacher cower on his bed, eyes darting around frantically for the source of the Voice. "Your passenger, however, is severely overdue."

Harry closed the distance between himself and Quirrel, who was clutching at his turban now, and gently unwrapped the cloth from the cowering man's head. Stuttering was an act, but the cowardice was not. At least, not entirely. When Quirrel could see what he had to fight then he was often quite brave, but an invisible enemy, one who knew his secret, and had a voice like an echo from within a mausoleum – well, who wouldn't be frightened?

Harry faced Voldemort in his weak, parasitic state, an ugly growth on the back of Quirrel's head.

"There is someone who has been waiting for you," Harry told the face. "And don't worry, I'll make sure the rest of you gets to him soon enough." Then he peeled Voldemort's face off of Quirrel just as Death had peeled of Harry's scar, and sliced through the piece of soul with his dagger.

Quirrel passed out.

Harry left, returning to his dorm and bed. An over-all productive Christmas in his opinion.

~oOo~

It was Sunday. There was a week of school left. Quirrel was, almost remarkably, still teaching. He'd also lost his stutter, which impressed a few people, and caused a couple of muggle-born students to ask, somewhat haltingly, if it had been a spell that Quirrel had used to overcome the speech impediment.

Harry was on his way to the third floor corridor, Bandersnatch at his side, his only companion for the afternoon while Hermione helped Ron with his end-of-term homework. Harry had slipped both of them a little potion of forgetfulness shortly after Christmas holidays were over. He really didn't want either of them to be going all gung-ho about the Philosopher's Stone, and 'protecting it from Snape', when Snape had never been after it in the first place.

Harry opened the door.

Three very large heads, full of very large teeth, growled at him from the same chest.

"Sit," Harry instructed the Cerberus.

The giant, three-headed dog whimpered slightly and did as it was told. When Harry saw the trap door, he sighed. A trap door, in the floor of the third storey of the castle? Well, logically that would mean that whatever was hidden was somewhere in the _second_ floor of the castle. He'd sort that out when he left – through a wall, rather than going through with this nonsense.

"Come on Banders," he said quietly to the dog, opening the hatch and dropping down.

"Hello Harry," Lobsang greeted when Harry landed.

"Sir," Harry returned, aware that he was sitting on plant-life. "I should move, shouldn't I?"

Lobsang nodded in the darkness. "You carry your own time with you. The plant will react."

Harry nodded and moved until he and Banders were on solid ground again, next to Time.

"Thank you for the Time Turner," Harry said. "Between homework and quidditch, I hadn't been getting enough sleep before.

Lobsang nodded. "I'm sure it will get worse," he said jovially.

Harry groaned, but turned his attention to the plant briefly. Cutting a bit off, he transfigured it into a flower pot and soil, then took a proper cutting, which he planted in the pot.

Lobsang raised an eyebrow at this.

Harry shrugged. "I'm sure it will come in useful sooner or later," the boy answered to the unspoken question.

Lobsang nodded, and disappeared.

~oOo~

Harry stood before the mirror in the final room. Initially, when he looked at it, confused, he saw his parents standing behind him. Quite sure that they weren't, Harry then turned his attention to the inscription on the frame.

"Ah," he said, then turned to Banders, who was panting happily beside him. "Magical people are stupid," he told his dog, then looked into the mirror again. He watched his mirror-self withdraw and replace the Philosopher's Stone in his pocket, and then with a nod, shrunk the mirror down and slipped it into his other pocket. "Dangerous thing that," he told Bandersnatch, referring to the mirror. "I'm sure of it."

Banders barked in agreement.

"Now, let's see where this room is really located, and then we'll go find the kitchen and get you some rats, eh?"

Bandersnatch's face lit up and he barked happily, doing a very puppy-ish dance around Harry, making the boy laugh, as it didn't suit the almost horse-sized canine any more than a lacy bow would have.

~end~


	5. Chapter 5

~Epilogue~

In his second year, Harry poisoned Lockhart with a very potent truth serum that he had mixed with a babbling potion – causing the man to lose all his credibility. He also met and killed a basilisk, saved Ginny's life, almost lost Banders – to the basilisk – and was able to send another part of Riddle's soul to meet Death. He then spent his summer renovating the house in Grimmauld Place and making friends with Kreacher and Mrs Black. He also destroyed Slytherin's locket that summer when he felt a piece of Voldemort's soul attached to it. Kreacher was most pleased that his final order from Regulus Black had finally been fulfilled.

In his third year, the trial of Sirius Black finally came to an end – when Harry sent Scabbers as the final piece of evidence for the defence. Ron was very mad, accused Bandersnatch and Hermione's cat Crookshanks in equal amounts of having eaten the rat, but Harry had reminded Ron of the small deal from the day they met in the train in first year. He bought Ron a small owl anyway, just to shut the annoying red-head up. He also got to meet Remus Lupin at last, and offered the tired looking man his parent's house out in the Lake district if teaching didn't work out for him – which it didn't, but Remus moved in with Sirius in Grimmauld Place, since it was no longer so drear.

Third year he had also taken, and then quickly dropped Divinations, when the professor had screamed at seeing the Grim in his teacup and portents of death all around him. She'd screamed even louder when he'd brought Bandersnatch to class and explained to her that sometimes a dog was just a dog, even if it was big and black. He'd taken up Ancient Runes instead.

In fourth year, shortly after names had been read out of the Goblet, Harry stole the hipflask of the defence teacher just before the hour was up, and everyone in the Great Hall saw what an imposter he was. He was rather pleased with that bit of revenge. Until Fudge came to deal with it, and Hogwarts had its first experience with Dementors – or as he had already come to know them from his time Away: Auditors. These ones were slightly different though. Of course, they were still deeply unpleasant. Then there was the whole Triwizard Tournament thing to deal with of course – Ron didn't talk to him for the entire duration of it, but Harry decided it probably wasn't much of a loss. In the first task, Harry had locked eyes with his dragon and said, very clearly, "Sit," before taking the golden egg from the nest while the ferocious Hungarian Horntail just sat there. In the second, he'd dived into the lake and swum down, unconcerned. He'd accompanied Death to witness at the passing of a tube-like creature at the very bottom of the sea once. A lake was no big deal – especially to get Bandersnatch back. The final task had been the doosie though, the cup that had transported him to that graveyard. Crouch had obviously done _that_ before he'd been Kissed. Death had apologised for having to take Diggory away, and Harry had apologised for not having brought the dagger so that Death would be able to take some more of Riddle away. At least he got to help Fred and George start up their joke shop.

Fifth year had been ... fun, actually. Alright, so having a Ministry 'spy' at Hogwarts – and an arrogant one to boot – hadn't been great, especially since she resembled a toad, but he'd quickly formed the Practical Defence Club to counter her, and when the pink, two-faced woman had given him detention for putting up a notice in one of the halls giving time and place for a meeting of the PDC _after_ she'd refused permission for this particular group's reformation, well, that had been _really_ fun. She'd handed him a quill, and he'd Remembered what it was the instant he held it in his hand.

"These were made illegal after World War One," Harry informed the woman politely. "What would the Minister think if he knew you were not only in possession of one, but forcing under-aged witches and wizards to use it?"

"Your _lines_ Mr Potter," Umbridge had said, some of the sugar shaken off the edge of her voice.

"Dolores Umbridge," Harry said, standing up and putting the quill down, his green eyes flashing blue in their depths. "You will write lines until the words have made an impression on your very soul. You will write: 'I must not think I am superior, because I am not.'"

She had too. Her classes had been cancelled in favour of the PDC for a while because she was still writing – without having stopped for anything – still when school broke for Christmas, when they came back after holidays, and eventually had to be removed to Saint Mungoes. Snape took over teaching the regular classes then.

Sixth and Seventh years were a bit of a blur. Harry managed to get to all of his classes, but only thanks to the gifts that Time had given him, and the skills he had inherited from Death. After all, he was fighting a war at the same time – a war in which having Miss Sto Helit and Bandersnatch beside him when he fought frightened the Death Eaters more than the threat of Dumbledore. A portent of death and a very pale someone dressed in stylish black and carrying not only a sword so sharp that it was invisible to the naked eye, but the ever-dramatic scythe as well? Harry chuckled at how some of them pissed their robes where they stood.

Riddle managed to hold it together for a while, but he crumbled when Death himself stood before him, and Harry told the Dark Lord that all of his horcrux had been destroyed. When Time arrived and lay hands on Riddle, the wizard abruptly became very, very old, and very, very weak. Harry struck the Dark Lord with his dagger, and Death swung his scythe.

Harry disappeared after that. Not even Hermione, his closest human friend, could find him. Ten years later, a man with bright green eyes – and several sets of coloured contacts for when he felt like having pink eyes, red eyes, purple eyes, blue eyes, brown eyes or golden eyes – black hair that had been bleached and dyed in places, a large old dog at his side – as well as a much smaller puppy of the same breed trailing behind, and a raven on his shoulder – a gift from when he was seventeen – appeared at the gates of Hogwarts.

"I'm here to see the Headmistress," the man told the gargoyle, deep within the castle. "I'm the new teacher."

The gargoyle stepped aside.

"Well Banders," the man said, stroking the old dog as the walked up the stairs, "we're back again."

The old dog wuffed in agreement, then whined softly, as though asking a question.

The man chuckled in response. "No my friend, you'll have the very best in your declining years. I just couldn't bare to leave you behind. Besides, I expect you to help me keep the students in line."

The old dog seemed to wheeze a chuckle, while the puppy behind yipped and wagged her tail.

"Yes Queen Mary, you too," the man chuckled.

"Mr Potter?" Minerva MacGonagall was surprised to see the boy, now man, standing in her office.

"Actually, it's Addams now. Hello Headmistress," Harry answered with a smile. "I've come to apply for the position of Defence teacher, and History teacher."

Minerva frowned. "Professor Binns still teaches History of Magic," the old woman said.

"And I'm sure his students still fall asleep in class," Harry answered. "No offence to Professor Binns, but he cannot hold the attention of the students, and he's missing out on rather a lot of history."

Minerva's frown deepened. "Can you handle the workload of taking two subjects?" she enquired. "There is a lot of work involved with just taking one for all of the seven age groups."

Harry nodded. "Perfectly capable," he answered. "You'll even see grades go up."

Minerva sighed, but agreed.

Harry modelled his History classes on the lessons he had received from Miss Sto Helit when he was little. None of the students fell asleep as they stared around at the Goblin Wars, and a great many of them discovered an enthusiasm for history that they had never had before. Defence class was more practically involving, requiring the students to all attempt to use the spells he demonstrated. Sometimes against a dummy, sometimes against an opponent, sometimes against a magical creature. As well as learning the magical side of things, Harry taught the students about the World Wars, man's first steps on the moon, and how to use weapons other than magic.

All of the staff agreed that the students had never had such high exam, O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. scores in the history of the school.

Some of the staff – and particularly Hermione, who had taken over the position of Muggle Studies professor long ago – questioned Harry on where he had been for the intervening ten years, but Harry never gave a satisfying answer. After all, they _knew_ he'd been 'away', they wanted to know where he'd been away too!

"Just... Away, for... a while," he'd always answer with a smile. No one ever saw the Death of Rats who came to visit him sometimes.

The only other kind of answer they got was from the woman who was apparently his wife – Wednesday Addams – when she came to visit the school to spend Halloween and mid-winter holidays with Harry. When _she_ was asked, Wednesday stated in a calm monotone that "Harry promised his first born to the Addams family when we took his godfather's case. It was just easier to have him contribute children to the Addams family this way."

"Besides," Harry added to the horrified looks of listeners when they heard this, "Wednesday and I actually love each other, loathe as she is to admit to feeling anything."

~THE END!~


End file.
